


Notification

by Flyontheceiling



Category: Mitch grassi - Fandom, Pentatonix, Scott Hoying - Fandom, Superfruit
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Prescription Drugs, angst (lots)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28554138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flyontheceiling/pseuds/Flyontheceiling
Summary: Mitch decides to leave Pentatonix, but struggles to get over the last hurdle.
Relationships: Mitch Grassi & Scott Hoying
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just fiction fans! Not going to happen! Just a ‘what if...’!

Mitch’s P.O.V.  
  
In Mitch’s world a metaphorical winter had arrived.

It hadn’t been a sudden thing by any stretch of the imagination. It had been more of a light, lazy snowfall than a blizzard. Sometimes the sun would come out, the temperature would rise and it would all melt away, then a few days later it would start again; the temperature would drop and the snow would start to fall again; sometimes heavier, sometimes softer, but always melting away eventually. Now, it was starting to get colder, and the freeze was beginning to set in. The snow was taking longer and longer to melt.

Mitch looked for the sunshine every day, waiting for the expected rise in temperature, but it was taking longer and longer. The sun was trapped behind dark clouds and he knew mid-winter was approaching.

It seemed so long since the spring.

It had been a period of growth; that spring that had given birth to the the band and supervised the blooming from infancy into puberty. There was excitement, joy, the anticipation of what was to come. Then the reckless teenage years; of trying new things, learning, forming new relationships and of heartbreak, but always knowing that summer was coming; unstoppable, relentless and welcomed with open arms.

When summer had arrived it had been a long, long, hot summer. They had soared so high. Every day had been a delight to wake up to, their little family unit basked in the sunlight and gained more and more energy. But then for Mitch, the fall began; a gentle fall when the days shortened almost unnoticeably, then suddenly the winter had begun.

There was no snow in L.A., but the cold was definitely here.

Mitch couldn’t put a finger on a date. This winter had nothing to do with calendars or solstices. Nor would this winter affect all of them, even though they had felt the cold creeping amongst them. While the rest of their little family were tucked up warm and cosy, Mitch found himself floundering out in the snow, unable to find the key to the door.

His bandmates had been at their best then. Each one of them had tried in their own distinct, individual ways to bring him inside. There had been phone calls, internet chats, invitations to join them on a night out or to a dinner. If it wasn’t work related, then Mitch had an excuse ready. There was no connection there anymore. He’d managed somehow, to outdistance himself but didn’t know how, or why.

He couldn’t even blame the pandemic, because that had affected everyone. Still, there had been no touring, no song writing or arranging as a group over bottles of wine late into the night. There were no intimate recording sessions or spontaneous trips to a restaurant or bar. No exciting new projects that had made them want to be together to discuss and laugh. Yet the other members had surfed it out, finding ways to keep up their closeness and friendships. So, Mitch had decided, it had to be his problem.

The isolation of the pandemic, however, had given him time to think and reflect, and he didn’t like what he had seen. He had seen someone clinging to a cliff by his fingertips because of a sense of duty. The love had gone for this part of his career, and every day had become an effort. He didn’t want to participate anymore in the falsehood he felt he was living. He didn’t want to smile and look happy for the cameras or fans, and therefore, he didn’t. He knew he couldn’t go on like this.

So Mitch had begun to drop hints. He involved himself more and more in his solo projects, exploring his other interests and learning enough about himself to realize that this was the real Mitch, at least for now. He knew he was changeable, obsessive at times, would probably follow a different path after a while. But that was okay. He gave himself permission to do that. Who knew what the future would bring? 

The hints were obviously not enough. Fans seemed to be picking up on them more than his bandmates, who obviously thought he was simply going through a bad patch, so it was with great reluctance that Mitch had finally come clean to them through Scott a couple of months ago. It was traumatic and he knew he would never forget it.


	2. Chapter 2

It was one of those sweltering LA days when the heat haze bounced off the roads and sidewalks when Mitch pulled into Scott’s drive. The haze and bright light had already given him a headache, and his stomach churned with nervousness. He half noticed that Mark’s car wasn’t there, and he was grateful. This would be hard.

He parked up and Scott swung the door open, swallowing him in an all-enveloping hug. So much for social distancing.

‘Hi!’

Mitch extricated himself sheepishly. ‘Hi, Scott.’ He felt even worse now. He knew that Scott’s mood would not be the same by the time he left.

‘You were very mysterious on the phone,’ Scott began, sweeping Mitch into the lounge and hurrying to the kitchen where he exited from carrying two tall glasses of something amber and fizzy. ‘None alcoholic for you,’ he grinned, ‘and not non alcoholic for me! So...’ he wafted Mitch to the couch where he sat and took a swallow of his drink. ‘...what’s up?’

Nothing like coming straight to the point, Mitch thought. He rubbed two fingers at his temple where his headache seemed to originate, and tried a gentle smile. It was better to come straight out with it, Mitch knew, but that didn’t stop his stomach churning. ‘I need to tell you something Scott, and I need you to keep calm because I’m relying on you to tell the others.’ 

The smile disappeared from Scott’s face, and Mitch could have sworn he whispered ‘shit’ under his breath. Did he know? ‘Sounds serious,’ he said, his blue eyes firmly holding Mitch’s but his eyebrows lowered.

Mitch wanted to look away, but couldn’t. He looked straight into Scott’s eyes and took a deep breath. ‘I want to leave the band.’ There. 

He waited for it to sink in, watching Scott carefully. To his surprise, there was simply a brief flick of his eyes to the carpet, then a slow nod. ‘I see.’ He downed his drink in one swallow, his exterior calm, but Mitch had already seen his hand shaking.

‘It’s been gnawing at me for so long, Scott. I’ve tried to drop hints, tried to prepare you all, tried to make it easier for everyone- including myself-but you haven’t been listening to me. None of you! I need to get out-as soon as possible!’ Mitch was aware of the increase in both the volume and speed of his voice, and he was shocked at his own vehemence. 

He was unable to sit still now, jumping to his feet to pace the floor. ‘I need you to set the wheels in motion for this to start happening. I’m asking you because I can’t face doing it myself.’ He lowered his head. ‘I-I can’t face the others.’ He could feel the pent up emotion beginning to build, deliberately avoiding Scott’s eyes now, but trying to keep his voice calm. ‘Please? Scott? Will you do this one last thing for me?’ 

He turned back to the figure on the couch. Scott’s head was bowed and he looked smaller somehow, as if he had collapsed in on himself. When he lifted his head, Mitch was shocked to see he was crying, and his initial reaction was to go in to hug the hell out of him; but that would simply not do.

‘Scott?’ Mitch queried, his hand instinctively reaching across the space in Scott’s direction to hang ineffectively in space. ‘Talk to me.’ 

Scott rose quickly and strode to the kitchen, emerging with the wine bottle in his hand. He didn’t bother filling his glass, he simply stood there and drank from the bottle, his eyes fixed on Mitch, accusingly. Mitch returned his stare and could easily see his struggle. Knew he was torn between breaking down and flying off the handle, and wondered which was going to win. He didn’t have long to wait.</u>

Finally, ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘I’ll sort it. Since you’ve apparently already made your mind up- without so much as a word to any of us, no discussion at all. I can’t believe you wouldn’t have talked to me about this! Now-get out.’ His voice was dangerously controlled. 

Mitch didn’t need to be told twice, and nodded, but he had to swallow hard before he could answer. ‘Alright...thank you.’ He turned to leave, ‘Goodbye, Scott.’ Once he was outside, he had to cover his ears as soon as the door shut behind him as Scott hurled the wine bottle at it. 

For a second or two, he stood there, wondering whether to go back in, but his survival instinct propelled him to his car. He really didn’t want to mess with this Scott.  
As he pulled out of the drive, he saw the door open and Scott supporting himself against the frame, and knew he had broken his old best friend.

One mile down the road, he had to pull over and, leaning over the steering wheel, bawled like a baby. He cried for what had been, for the memories and also for the love and friendship that had been lost and he felt would never return. 

Once he was spent and empty, he drove home, and he was in the house only a few minutes when his phone started making noises-messages, calls. Unwilling to get into it with anyone, he turned it off, and it stayed off for three days. 

Mitch had felt strangely calm during that time. The deprivation of his phone and the fact that he’d got things out in the open seemed to lighten his mood and he spent his time song- writing, despite the thème being sad and dark, and met up with Austin for a few hours. His mood was improved drastically when he was involved in this side of his life, and he forgot for a while about the band, about his phone, his other life, and Scott.

On the evening of day three, he looked at the silent black screen and knew he would have to turn it on eventually- but not now. He had no intention of facing those calls just yet.

And so his bandmates ambushed him.

Mitch was on his way to Starbucks on foot, a short jaunt from his home and he was only a few yards away from the coffee shop when they emerged from two cars like a band of masked ninja warriors. Perfectly timed.

Mitch froze. Dammit -of course Scott knew his morning routine wouldn’t have changed. He felt like a deer caught in the headlights as they approached him, but he had to admire their tenacity. ‘Shit!’ He muttered under his breath.

‘Hey Mitch!’ Kevin called, ‘Going to Starbucks too?’ 

Mitch sighed and smiled softly beneath his mask. ‘You know I am.’ His eyes couldn’t help but find Scott’s, but he was relieved to see the anger seemed to have dissipated. Still, for a second or two he actively considered walking straight past the coffee shop, but Kevin seemed to read his mind, held the door open and gestured for him to enter with a flourish. 

‘It’s about time we caught up, don’t you think?’ 

Kirstie chuckled. ‘Don’t scowl like that babe, think of the wrinkles!’ She put a gentle hand on his arm, guiding him to the counter, as if she was fearful he might turn and go.

Mitch scowled anyway but ordered his coffee and took a seat at the window, despite his every instinct being to leave. It was exactly the situation he’d been hoping to avoid. 

‘There seems to be something wrong with your phone, Mitch,’ Matt said as he cheerfully slid in next to Mitch. ‘None of us have been able to reach you.’

Mitch looked at him. ‘Really,’ he replied drily, suddenly realizing he was well and truly trapped now. He glared at Scott, sitting between Kevin and Kirstie. ‘I ask you to do one thing,’ he muttered and Scott shrugged.

‘I did,’ he replied through mouthfuls of coffee. ‘This wasn’t my idea.’

‘It was mine!’ Kirstie said proudly. ‘ You’re just lucky the whole management team aren’t here too. When were you going to turn it back on?’ She gestured at Mitch’s phone sitting forlornly on the table. For some reason, turned off or not, he had been unable to leave it at home.

‘Soon,’ he sighed heavily, beginning to get irritated. ‘Look- let’s get this over. I haven’t changed my mind, things are already in motion, and I contacted Jonathan yesterday.’ He didn’t add that it had been by email and he hadn’t yet opened his reply-or any other of the many emails that had come flooding in.

‘We know. Jonathan’s never been off the phone,’ Kevin said. ‘Wanting to know why you were ghosting everyone, and tearing his hair out.’

To Mitch’s surprise, Kevin reached across the table and put his hand firmly on top of his own. It looked so big, Mitch thought, completely swallowing his own. ‘Mitch, whatever you decide, we’re all behind you.’ Mitch doubted that, and couldn’t help it showing on his face. ‘I’m more upset that you didn’t trust us to support you.’ He shifted uneasily in his seat and his hand squeezed Mitch’s. Mitch turned his hand and his fingers curled around Kevin’s, an almost desperate need to feel that connection. ‘We’re not here to change your mind, Mitch, we’re all aware of how unhappy you’ve been,’ he wafted his other hand to encompass the rest of the group. ‘We all spoke and wondered if we hadn’t been available enough. This is a life changing, drastic decision you’ve made and you’ve obviously thought about it long and hard.’ 

Mitch swallowed hard, meeting Kevin’s intense gaze was hard. ‘It is, and I have.’ His voice was almost a whisper.

‘Then there are things we need to sort out,’ Scott interrupted matter-of-factly. ‘ We need to decide what date you officially go to start with. Management have given us full rein to negotiate some things with you. They’ll draw up the legal docs, then all you have to do is go in and sign them.’

‘Scott...’ Kevin’s voice warned quietly as he felt Mitch’s fingers tighten.

Mitch looked at Scott hard. He really wasn’t sure anymore which was the easier option; dealing with management or the band . He took a deep breath.’ I thought the first of August would be a good date,’ he said. ‘That gives us plenty of time to fulfill all our presently existing commitments. I don’t think there’s anything pencilled in after that, because of the uncertainty of touring. I know there’s a lot of shit to sort out.’

Scott produced a notebook and started writing. Not once had he looked Mitch in the face, and everyone sensed the tension and appeared uncomfortable with it.

‘There is,’ he agreed. ‘But we’ll get through it. We’ve done it before and we’ll do it again.’ 

My god, Mitch thought, how cold can you get? Scott’s whole demeanor was very detached and business like. He could hardly believe this was the same person he had known for eighteen years; the person he had made his best friend and eventually, his lover; and the same person he had gone into partnership with in Superfruit. Superfruit- shit, more legal crap to sort out. The partnership should have been dissolved months ago, but they had both ignored it.

Scott continued to drone on, more business, and Mitch eventually tuned out, staring out the window at the traffic and more sure than ever he had made the right decision. It wasn’t until Scott mentioned his replacement that his attention was regained. He’d never thought about it. Of course they would replace him- the same way they’d replaced Avi, but Mitch had never thought about a suitable replacement the way Avi had. 

‘And so...’ Scott was saying, ‘we’d like you to drop down to get the fans used to a different tone in the band. No high notes if we can avoid it, and we’ll look at some of our past stuff that we’re still using to try and change things up. Or should that be down?’ Scott chuckled to himself, and Mitch could almost feel a touch of hysteria in that chuckle. Not that I can see concerts starting again anytime soon, but...’

Mitch had had enough. He knew his old friend well enough to know he was about to break, and he was on the edge himself. The last thing he wanted was a full scale shouting match in the middle of Starbucks, and he knew he needed to remove himself.

‘No problem Scott,’ he agreed, quickly. ‘I can see you’ve got everything under control. If I can think of anyone suitable to step in, I’ll let you know.’ He stood up. ‘You just pass it onto legal and tell them to let me know when everything’s finalized. I’ll be turning up for everything we have arranged. Next Thursday at the studio then? I assume you’ll contact me about the new arrangement and any changes you want to make? Don’t want to be going in there not knowing what I’m doing.’ He looked down at Matt, more than a little bit of desperation in his voice. ‘Excuse me. I need to leave now.’

For a second or two Matt just stared at him with his mouth open, then Mitch saw Kirstie kick him under the table and he scrambled out. Mitch turned to nod and smile at Kevin, who offered him a sad smile in return, before hastily striding out the door without looking back.

That would be the last time he went for coffee at that specific time, he decided.


	3. Chapter 3

Scott’s P.O.V

Scott had a bad feeling. It had hung over him for days now, but he simply put it down to the sadness of not being able to tour or join his bandmates as much as he would like. Sometimes they just had to meet, and that was complicated, involving Covid tests, masks and social distancing. Not exactly conducive to bonding, but he supposed that was the idea.

When Mitch called out of the blue wanting to arrange what he described as a ‘business meeting’ with him, Scott had been surprised but secretly pleased. He didn’t get to see Mitch enough anymore and it would be great to catch up. It was only when Mitch insisted it just be the two of them, that he knew something was up and Mitch was not very forthcoming about what it was he wanted to talk about. Scott wondered if Mitch had decided the time had come to dissolve their Superfruit partnership, and although Scott knew it was coming, he still didn’t see why he was being so secretive.

When Mitch came out with it just like that. ‘I want to leave the band,’ Scott’s mind started to race. In the space of a few seconds he’d recalled Avi’s departure, the struggle they’d had with not just losing a bass, but with losing a friend who’d been with them from the beginning, and Scott knew this would be worse. Much, much worse. 

Oh my god, he could already envision the Twitter feed.

He needed a drink. He grabbed the wine bottle from the kitchen and took two massive swallows. He just couldn’t deal with Mitch right now; he needed him gone so he could process the avalanche of input that threatened to overwhelm his brain. 

As Mitch left, his temper got the better of him, and before he realized what he was doing, he hurled the wine bottle at the door, knowing full well Mitch would have heard it and know how incensed he was, but he wanted him to know; wanted him to know how much he had just disrupted his life. 

‘Fuck!’ He shocked himself by his own violence as the glass bottle exploded into a cloud of sparkling emeralds and the remaining wine showered the ceiling. He staggered to the door in time to see Mitch’s car reversing onto the road. ‘Shit, shit, shit!’ He caught a momentary glimpse of Mitch’s face as he turned to look full at him as he straightened up on the road. He looked, Scott realized with a wave of shame, scared.

The video calls after that were a nightmare. He wondered for a minute whether he should wait until he had calmed down, but he just needed to offload some of this right that very minute. 

Kirstie’s cheerful face almost made him regret his decision. He saw her expression move through every emotion, and he didn’t pull any punches.

‘Hi! How goes it?’ Kirstie smiled, ‘ Everything still on for next Thursday?’ Then she must have focused. ‘Is everything okay?’

‘Mitch wants to leave the band, Kirstie. He’s just gone out the door and left me with the dirty to do. I thought you should be the first to know.’ There was the shock.

‘I practically threw him out, Kit. I even hurled a wine bottle after him.’ He turned his phone to show her the proof. There was the horror. 

A whispered, ‘Whoa! What?’ Now the disbelief. ‘I’m coming over, Babe. Take some deep breaths and try and calm down. I’m sure he didn’t mean it. He’s just...’ 

Scott gave a bitter, almost hysterical, chuckle before cutting her off. ‘...Oh he meant it alright.’ He could see Kirstie moving around her home as she prepared to leave. ‘Kirstie?’

‘On my way.’ She turned to explain her sudden departure, presumably to Ben, ‘be there soon.’ 

Kevin thought it was a joke...at first. Then his eyes started darting around the room as if trying to find the answers, and Scott could see him trying to compute. He finally seemed to give himself a shake and his concentration returned to Scott.

‘Kirstie’s coming over now. You want to join us?’ Scott was saying.

Kevin nodded slowly. ‘Okay, er...yeah, okay.’ He frowned into the screen. ‘Sorry, Scott. Just can’t think at the minute.’

‘I know. We’ll talk soon.’

Matt was unavailable, and Scott took the few minutes it took Kirstie to get there cleaning up the mess he’d made, but he knew the stains on the ceiling were going nowhere. Then he quickly contacted Mark to let him know what was happening. Mark was upset and angry that Mitch had put it all on Scott, but Scott thought he’d managed to reassure him that he was okay and coping, despite not being or doing either.

Kirstie breezed in like a breath of fresh air. She’d managed to contact Matt, who had been driving when Scott phoned, and he was coming over too. It would have been a good excuse for a party, Scott thought bitterly, if the circumstances had been easier. 

‘ Can we get Mitch over, honey?’ Kirstie asked. ‘Have you tried?’

Scott shook his head. ‘Can’t speak to him at the minute. Maybe in a day or two. I’m scared I might hurt him.’ He wiped an arm across his face and she could see the haunted look shadowing his eyes.

Kirstie sighed. It was going to be a long day.

Kevin’s P.O.V

Kevin disconnected Scott’s call and just sat staring at the screen for what seemed like hours. Kevin loved each and everyone of his bandmates and thanked God every single day that he had been lucky enough to be part of the band.  
Now, it seemed there was about to be another overhaul, and Kevin hated that.

He recalled the misery he felt when Avi left. How hard it was on all of them. The blame game amongst the fandom, the hurt their written words caused, and the sleepless nights when he sometimes thought it was all over. 

As it turned out, they had nothing to fear. The fandom had calmed down once they understood it was Avi’s decision, had become extremely supportive when Matt had slid into the gaping space and made it his home. Yes, their sound had changed, but the new sound had made it easier to try different music that they might not have even thought about before, and Matt was popular with the fans. Kevin and Matt had become firm friends, but he still missed Avi. 

Was this the way Mitch thought his loss would be absorbed? Kevin knew that this would be different. Worse. Much, much worse. So much worse that he really wasn’t sure the band could survive it; didn’t think the stamina would be there to do it all again.

So Kevin was worried. Although he himself had faith that everything would work out if they pressed on, it was fear that the fatigue and chaos would just be too much for his friends and that they would fall before even looking at the hurdles.

Ah Mitch, he thought, an unknown quantity to Kevin even after all these years; because Mitch didn’t just change his look frequently, a process that the fans seemed to look forward to, but also his personality; something that they tended not to notice. They weren’t the ones who were with him hours and days at a time, sleeping, eating, singing, and just existing together. But that had all stopped now, and maybe they just hadn’t noticed how drastic the more recent change had been.

Kevin had some wild memories and not all of them were good. Mitch could be kind, funny, resourceful, loving and humble; but he could also be embarrassing, loud, vain and self obsessed. And that was sober Mitch- drunk Mitch was a different animal altogether; sad, quiet, reflective. Kevin never quite knew which Mitch would be showing up at any particular time. 

Despite all of this, Kevin loved Mitch like a brother. He knew there had been something on Mitch’s mind, something that kept him from being as involved and interested as the rest of the band, that set him apart from them. Everyone had chosen to ignore the elephant in the room, and maybe they were partly to blame.

He picked up his keys, pecked Leigh on the cheek, and left, heading into who knew what.


	4. Chapter 4

Back to the present

Mitch sat with his finger poised over the ‘post’ icon on Twitter. He was drunk, and suffering from the worst anxiety he had felt for months. Nothing was helping.

Tomorrow he would officially no longer be a part of Pentatonix, although he still had commitments to fulfil for six weeks; mostly TV interviews (which he was dreading because he could already hear the questions in his head), and some promotions. He thanked god that he wouldn’t have to endure what Avi did, having a very public concert as his last appearance, but that wasn’t making this any easier. 

He hadn’t been able to eat or sleep, had smoked too much weed, and was well on his way through a second bottle of wine. Austin had wanted them to be together when he posted the video, but Mitch had pushed him away. This was something so intensely personal to him that it just had to be done in private.

He had chosen to make a notification video without his bandmates, unlike Avi. He had recorded it that afternoon before he started drinking, and now all he had to do was post it. He had been trying to do just that now for two hours, and his finger was getting no closer to the screen. Yet he knew time was against him.

He was a mess, he knew. Maybe choosing to do this in the middle of a pandemic had not been the best idea. It was a difficult time for everyone, and tempers were frayed.

He moved his finger tentatively over the screen, then quickly moved back to his photos. That was probably the biggest mistake. After a few seconds of scrolling, he was in floods of silent tears, desperate to regain those lost years, to be transported back in time to when he was living his best life. 

He jumped when a message came came through. Expecting it to be Austin, he opened it, and went cold when he saw Scott had sent it. 

‘Just do it.’

He dropped the phone as if it had suddenly become hot.

His eyes burned and he could feel the nausea starting along with the dizziness as his breathing suddenly became out of control. ‘No you don’t, Hoying,’ he told his abandoned phone. ‘Your days of telling me what to do are well and truly over!’ He punctuated the last four words with a stab of his finger, grabbed the phone and texted a rude reply back. He then pulled himself to his feet and staggered to the bathroom. 

He was so drunk, he missed the door and ploughed into the door frame, bouncing his forehead off it. He threw up the wine he had consumed and reached for the Xanax bottle. He needed something else to take the edge off this. He followed the pills with more wine.

‘Never let anyone say Mitch Grassi isn’t persistent,’ he slurred to the wine bottle as he cradled the almost empty container on his lap. 

He picked up his phone off the floor with difficulty keeping his balance and opened it to the video, but again his finger just waved haphazardly over the screen. 

He couldn’t do this, he realized. If he couldn’t do it sober and couldn’t do it drunk, what other option was there? Don’t do it at all? He tried to fathom out what would happen if he didn’t post it, but his muddled brain couldn’t make sense of it. The room was not being his friend, spinning around him disconcertingly, and the Xanax hadn’t kicked in yet. The couch was very inviting...

He must have dozed for a few minutes, and woke to a pounding on his door. ‘Shit, Austin, it’s open!’ He moaned. He really wished it wasn’t, but just wanted the pounding to stop. He rolled off the couch to the floor, the room heaving around him. Obviously, he hadn’t been asleep long enough to sleep it off, but had absolutely no idea what the time was. The pounding started again, and Mitch crawled on all fours into the hallway, then used the table to drag himself to his feet.

He was just turning to the door when it opened. ‘Good god, Mitch! What the hell...?’

Mitch swayed unsteadily, blinking slowly at Scott. Now the Xanax was working, and combining with the alcohol to make an interesting cocktail. ‘G’way!’ He muttered, making a pathetic attempt to show Scott the way out. Just moving his body in anything other than a straight line was obviously way beyond his capabilities, and resulted in an undignified slide down the wall. He lay on the floor blinking up at Scott towering above him.

‘Jesus, Mitch, how much have you had?’ Scott came down to Mitch’s level and peered at him. ‘What have you done to your head?’ His hand came out to examine his face, but Mitch slapped it away. 

‘You need t’go. Why’re you here?’

Scott pulled his phone out from his pocket and showed Mitch the messages page. Mitch squinted up at it, but couldn’t focus. ‘Wha?’

‘You’re tell me! You wrote it!’ Scott frowned again at the jumbled letters that didn’t even form words that Mitch had sent him earlier. ‘Then you wonder why I’m here?’ He paused . ‘You want to get up from the floor?’

Mitch shook his head, then wished he hadn’t. He curled into a ball moaning. ‘Jus’ sleep here.’

‘I don’t think so Grassi. You’ve still got a job to do, remember?’

Mitch frowned up at him over the forearm he had chosen to be his pillow. ‘Job?’

Scott sighed. ‘Come on- get up. Then you can show me the video and we’ll get it posted.’ He got behind Mitch, hooked his arms under his, and hauled him up into a sitting position. ‘Where’s your bedroom?’ Scott realized this was the first time he’d set foot in Mitch’s new home, and that made him feel a little guilty.

Mitch waved a finger at him with a drunken giggle. ‘Tut tut, Scotty, an’ you being a nearly marred...er, married man an’ all!’ Mitch seemed to find this hilarious. ‘Marred! You’re nearly a marred man!’ He dissolved into fits of hysterical laughter.

Scott raised his eyes skywards. He left Mitch making feeble attempts to get himself vertical, and quickly located both his phone and bedroom. It was a long time since he’d seen Mitch this drunk, but drunk or not, that video had to go out. His phone opened immediately at the neglected video, so he knew Mitch had at least been thinking about sending it. He turned up the sound and touched ‘play’ and felt a jolt when Mitch’s sadly smiling face came to life.

He had clearly made it that same day as he was wearing the same baggy, tan hoodie, but looked a whole lot more presentable, and minus the lumpy bruise on his forehead.

‘There are only a few people in this world that know what I’m about to tell you, and those few people have been some of the most important people in my life for years. They have been my friends, my family, my confidantes, my mentors and my role models.’ Mitch moistened his lips before continuing. ‘These people bear no fault at all in the decision I have made, and I just want to make that clear. This decision is mine, and mine alone. I’ve found myself conflicted in my professional life, and I know now that there is no room for split loyalties. I need to move on, and after the best and most memorable ten years, I have made the decision...’ a shuddering sigh here, and Mitch’s eyes dropped, ‘...to leave Pentatonix to those who still have the drive to push this band forward and not hold it back. ‘ He looked back into the camera, his eyes filling. ‘It has been a privilege and an honor to be a part of this band and I wish them all the very, very best for their future. With you behind them, I know they can’t fail.’ He paused to blink rapidly. ‘ I hope you can all consider supporting me in the future too. I’m going to plough on with my solo career, so be aware...’ a big, shy smile now, ‘Mitch Grassi lives on, and thank you all for your love and commitment through the years. I couldn’t have got through it without you all.’ He made a small salute, and Scott saw him reach forward to turn off the camera.

Scott ran a hand through his hair, still looking at the smiling face frozen on the screen, until the real thing appeared swaying in the doorway.

‘S’okay?’ Mitch asked, rubbing at his eyes like a tired toddler.

Scott smiled and nodded. ‘More than okay, Mitch.’ he said quietly. ‘You gonna come over here and post it now?’ He patted the couch next to him.

Mitch frowned. ‘Y’seriously think I can make it all that way without help, Hoying?’ He flapped a hand to accentuate the massive gulf of about three strides between them. His eyes narrowed as if measuring the possibilities.

Scott took the hint and steered him in a straight line to the couch where he fell into a heap. ‘You’re going to wish you were never born tomorrow, you know?’ 

Mitch grunted in agreement. ‘Y’mean cos of this,’ he’d found the wine bottle partly hidden under a cushion and shook it in Scott’s direction. ‘Or that.’ He pointed the bottle to his phone, still in Scott’s hand. ‘Either way, I think I jus’ wanna sleep for a week. This girl ain’t cut out for this stuff.’

Scott watched as Mitch downed the remnants of the wine out of the bottle, his eyes challenging Scott to say anything, and Scott just raised his eyebrows. ‘Gone,’ he said with satisfaction, shaking the bottle just to make sure. There was a glint in his eye now. ‘Not gonna throw it though! ‘

Scott grimaced. ‘Yeah...sorry about that.’ 

Mitch snorted sarcastically. 

‘Come on, Mitch. Look, let’s face it...this is what you wanted! You wanted out, now you’ve got out! Think of all the time and energy you’ll have now to put into going solo.’ He held the phone up in front of Mitch. ‘This is just the last step, and you know, I don’t think you give people enough credit.’ Mitch turned away from him, his fingers playing with the toggles on his hoodie. 

‘I know exactly how you’re thinking. You think that everyone will hate you and blame you if the band has the slightest hiccup in the future, but they won’t. Sure, there’ll always be those who will be judgemental and cruel, but the majority- the true fans and your true friends will always be behind you. They love you, Mitch, and despite your quirks, despite how irritating and annoying and goddamn bitchy you can be, so do myself and the rest of the band.’ He put a hand out to still Mitch’s fidgeting fingers, and wrapped both his arms around him from behind, the phone in front. ‘Now, let’s do this together.’

Scott took Mitch’s forefinger and placed it next to his own beside the post button. ‘Ready?’ 

Mitch nodded, ‘Jus’ needed a li’l shove, y’know?’ and they both drew their fingers down until they heard the ping. ‘Done,’ Mitch said. For a second or two they both just stared at the screen expectantly as if the video might just bounce back. Then Mitch began to feel heavier against Scott’s body as the relief mixed with the effect of the alcohol and Xanax began to take effect.

‘Bedtime, queen,’ Scott murmured, and with a little difficulty half carried, half steered Mitch to his bed. He removed his sneakers and covered him with a blanket before finding painkillers and leaving them with a glass of water beside the bed.

He bent down and kissed the bruise on Mitch’s head. ‘Goodnight, Mitchy.’

As he left the room, a tired voice called him. ‘Scott?’ He turned. ‘What d’ya mean- goddamn bitchy?’

Scott grinned. ‘Tomorrow.’

As he dropped the lock on Mitch’s door, Twitter began to light up, and he grimaced. 

Here we go.


End file.
